


Time Takes Everything

by fictional_lynx567



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: AU - Why The Wales Came, Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:30:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictional_lynx567/pseuds/fictional_lynx567
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate universe inspired by Why The Wales Came<br/>(I did not write that, do not own it, etc etc.)</p><p>“Doctor Benzedrine puts spells on people. I shouldn't talk to him. No one’s supposed to talk to him. I want to, though.”</p><p>Pete makes sculptures out of sand, because that's all he knows. He doesn't remember things very well.</p><p>Benzedrine, on the other hand, remembers a lot of things. He fixes things as well. Things like Pete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Takes Everything

Pete knelt on the sand, a red plastic bucket at his side. He scooped up damp sand and patted it down, because that was what he did best. He was the Sandman, he loved the sand, the sand was his friend. All those tiny particles, ground up and tossed about by the sea, and yet coming together again so Pete could make his sculptures.

Everybody on the island avoided Pete. Pete sounded like peat. Peat was earth, right? Peaty Pete, sandy Pete. He didn’t remember stuff like that very well any more.

Anyway, yes, everyone here avoided Pete. He thought he’d probably avoid himself as well if he could. He was very ugly. When he was little there had been a fire in his home, he didn’t remember that either. His family had died, but he didn’t know if that made him sad or not because he didn’t remember them either. He’d been only three at the time- or round about three.

He’d been terribly burned all down his left side- He had pink, peeling, melted skin on the left side of his face, he walked with a limp as his leg was twisted and still hurt him sometimes. His arm was also burnt, but it hadn’t reached his bones, so he could still move it. He probably would’ve died if it hadn’t been for Benzedrine.

Doctor Benzedrine. Everyone avoided him as well. Well, when they didn’t need some kind of medicine or medical help. Pete didn’t get that. Benzedrine wasn’t ugly like him, he helped people. Sometimes he left Pete things when he went walking on Rushy Bay. Little carvings of birds and whales, so realistic you’d think they’d come to life at any moment. People still avoided him best they could though.

Anyway, when Pete’d been found to be alive, they’d taken him up to Benzedrine, who’d saved his life apparently. He’d fixed up Pete’s hand but he couldn’t heal the molten skin and twisted bones. Pete didn’t mind though. As long as he could make his sculptures.

It was getting dark now. The sun was sinking down beneath the waves, making light dance across the tops of the waves and casting oranges, pinks, yellows and dark blues across the sky. The tide was just turning now. Pete looked down at the horseshoe crab he’d made in the sand, and wished he’d made it above the tide-line so Benzedrine might see it. He didn’t know if Benzedrine liked his sculptures, but he’d often leave his gifts to Pete near the lump of sand where they used to be. He’d never spoken to Benzedrine though. Maybe he should. Maybe he would, one day.

But Pete was tired, and wanted to sleep. So he turned around and started walking around the cleft of rock to his right, where he could scale the cliff safely and go home. Because he turned around then, he didn’t see the figure in a yellow sou’wester appear at the end of the bay, watching him as he walked away.

~*~

Once upon a time, he’d been a sailor. A fisherman, on a little fishing boat, oh so long ago. He still remembered it though- he remembered just about everything. He watched the Sandman walk away, along the beach. He remembered him. When he’d been bought to him on that dry summer evening with burns all down his side. His name was Pete, he remembered. Pete reminded him of a friend he’d had, all those years ago. Was it years? Decades? Centuries, even? Benzedrine remembered, but he could never quite remember the time. Time becomes a little meaningless when you can’t feel it passing, when the only way it’ll affect you is to take the things you love from you whilst you yourself remain. A funny thing, time. Not the laughing kind, but sometimes it made him laugh. He remembered laughing, laughing with his friend who had been like Pete but wasn’t. Or maybe Pete was like that other friend? He’d think that one out later, because there was always later.

For now, he walked along the beach, to where the sand sculpture lay. He loved these sculptures, he loved what They represented, the countless metaphors they could be and become. Today, it was a horseshoe crab. How funny. That had been the other friend’s nickname, that was funny. Two separate people, but so similar. Benzedrine wondered if they were similar in personality. He didn’t want to talk to Pete though. Well, that was a lie, he did want to talk to Pete, but then he might become friends with Pete and then time would take him away again. Time takes everything.

He hadn’t bought Pete a carving today, so he just left a little arrangement of shells above the tide-line. He didn’t know if Pete could read, but it didn’t matter. This was just another metaphor.

Benzedrine liked metaphors, they linked together things that otherwise would not touch. So he left just that little message in the sand and walked away from the beach, back up to his little house. The flock of gulls on the roof where sleeping now, 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this will be continued or not, but I couldn't sleep and I was reading the book whilst listening to Folie A Deux and things happened. If you want this to be continued or whatever, leave a comment I guess.


End file.
